All I Ever Knew Was Your Name [Nick Robinson]

FORTY SEVEN

cinnamon girl by lana del rey

Morning comes all too quickly. I awaken to the bitter wind blowing through the trees, the sunlight flickering through my bedroom window.

It's a quiet morning. Owen and Penny must still be asleep, which isn't always like them. At least, it's not like Owen. Penny would sleep until two in the afternoon everyday if she could. Owen, on the other hand, would rather be up at five in the morning.

Opposites attract, right?

A yawn escapes my lips as I roll over onto my side, pressing my nose so lightly into the softness of my pillow in hopes that I'll still feel Nick with me in whatever way I can. It reminds me of the nights soon after he left us where I so desperately searched for any trace of him. Only this time, I'm not crying hysterically or shivering with nerves.

I'm almost content.

My hands don't want to leave the warmth beneath my blankets, but they finally do as I reach for my cell phone beside me. I'm quick to maneuver my hands under the blanket again to keep warm on this December morning.

As I unlock my phone, I'm greeted with a text message from an unsaved number that came over seven minutes prior. I'm not normally awoken with text messages, since everyone I ever talk to lives in the same apartment as I do. This is unusual for me.

Perhaps it's someone from work asking me to cover a shift, or maybe it's some kind of spam. My heart jumps over itself when the thought of it being Nick passes through my mind.

He did get a new phone. This very well could be him. It could be—

My thumb slides over the screen, only to see a fairly lengthy first text message. Maybe 8 sentences long, and very well written. When I look up at the contact again, it says Maybe: Marissa.

Marissa? What could she possibly want from me? And how would she have my phone number? Why does she even need it?

I begin reading.

Maybe: Marissa: Hi Mary, this is Marissa. It was really great to finally meet you last night after everything I've heard from Alex and Nick. You truly lived up to my expectations. I feel as if we really didn't get the opportunity to talk to each other, and it's something I'd really like to do before heading home. If you're up for it, I'll be alone at Ferro's Cafe this morning at 10:00 for a little while. I look forward to seeing you if you decide to come. Thanks, Mary.

A racing heart rattles my chest. This is the very last thing in the world I ever expected to see— so much so, that I read it four more times before even processing my thoughts.

I'm not a stupid girl. I know exactly what she wants to talk about. I know that she wants to clear her conscience from this burden she carries. The burden of turning my world on its side, the burden of shaking my life up so badly that I'm unsure how to even function, even with Nick back in the picture.

What I'm thinking about is: would I actually want to sit down with this woman and talk to her about it? I don't know her. I don't know if she even actually carries a burden. I know nothing about her.

Will this give me some kind of closure? The closure I've never been able to find, no matter what I do?

Can I get closure? What even is there to close?

These are all thoughts that race through my head at five hundred miles a minute as I slowly and hesitantly work my way up 34th Avenue where I see Ferro's Cafe, just like the text message instructed.

I don't tell anyone I'm going. Penny and Owen are still asleep when I leave, and I make sure to remain quiet so that no questions are asked. I have a feeling I'm not going to want to talk about the next hour or so ever again.